Of Magic and Dragons
by Dragonsgirl16
Summary: Artemis Peverell is the Master of Death, never can she enter the after-life, her soul is constantly reborn along with her sworn swords; Draco and Blaise. Finding herself born to a noble family of Lys, she is unable to resist the call when Steffon Baratheon comes knocking for a bride for the Crown Prince. Can Westeros survive the immortal witch? Femharry. Drabble one-shots.
1. Lys and Marriage

A/N: So I watched the first episode of season six today and was inspired by Game of Thrones goodness. I also managed to read the entirety of World of Ice and Fire and was, unconciously, inspired by kvdsouza's challenge. This isn't exactly like her challenge, but some ideas have been taken from it. Mostly this story is because I challenged myself to write a one-shot today and here it is. I wasn't going to post it, because it was just a little challenge for myself, but I thought what the heck. It's probably got some punctuation errors and stuff because, like I said, I wasn't going to post it. So if you look past those, I hope you enjoy it I know I did. If it's a load of crap, let me know! This was a spur of the moment thing after all.

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Artemis Peverell was the master of death, a soul that would never cross into the after-life, but was sent to many different realms and many different times in many different forms. She was a human witch in her first life – a mother and a hero – yet in her second she was a female elven warrior. She remembered all her lives gradually, with each year remembering just a little more, and each life there were a few things that remained a constant. She was always an orphan and she always had her magic and magical items. Then there were Draco and Blaise, two boys from her first life who had lived in the shadow of their families' legacy and, as such, remained unfulfilled in their own destinies, upon their death they were given a choice. To linger in purgatory and remain unfulfilled, or join Artemis and become her sworn swords. They chose the latter and joined her in each life. They, unlike her, remembered everything of their previous lives once they reached the age of ten and, if they were not already beside her, they sought her out. Finally was her name. Her first life she was called Artemis Lily Potter, heir of Ignotus Peverell, and through every life since she would bear the name Artemis Peverell, in remembrance of who she had been when she united the Hallows.

This world was different to the others, yet held a similarity to medieval earth, it was heavily built upon swords and slaves, and in the past, there were once magical creatures. Dragons, Direwolves and Basilisks. When the magic died, or grew too tainted, so too did the creatures bound by it.

Artemis was born to the Peverell family, a long-standing family whose ancestral roots were Valyria, to parents that practised the darker arts of magic. They died three years after her birth and she was given to Jahario Mokapies to be raised. From a young age she sought to help people of all births, from the pleasure houses to the manses, her name was known. Draco was the son of Jahario and once he reached the age of remembering, he was forever by her side, helping her to sneak away from the Peverell manse that she called home, to help the citizens of Lys.

Blaise came to her only a few years ago, a bastard of some Dothraki horse lord and a whore. By this time she was known all over Essos, her legendary healing skills and caring nature but a ghost story, but a story Blaise recognised for just who it spoke of.

Now sixteen, she was the Light of Lys, well respected and adored – so very unlike the family name she had belonged to which had been treated with suspicion in the past. Stunningly beautiful on an island renowned for its beauty. Her Valyrian blood was of the purest to be found, her silver hair long and curled and shimmered like pure moonlight, and her eyes were pure amethysts. Her skin was of the palest snows, soft and smooth but for her hands which bore callouses from potion making and tending her enchanted garden. Her lips were blood red, plump and, according to Draco, perfectly kissable. She had a curvy frame and was voluptuous.

When she was fourteen she was taught by the head mistress, Silla, at the most luxurious pleasure house how to use her assets. It was a day both Draco and Artemis had enjoyed, the former for more pleasurable reasons. She had learned how to walk sensuously, to gaze coyly at a man and reveal just enough of herself that it would not be seen as improper. Needless to say, Artemis and Silla were great friends.

Her seduction skills combined with the allure her magic gave off allowed for a very deadly combination.

It night time when Death approached her.

She was standing in her garden, at the small veranda hidden at the very back of her property, it overlooked the sea. There was something purely magical about the moon's rays bouncing off the calm water. It brought her a tranquillity she could never feel otherwise. The only clue she had to Death's arrival was a small breeze and overwhelming scent of peppermint. A strange smell, to be sure, but one he always carried for Thanatos had a love of the candy.

'You've lived the past sixteen years in peace,' Thanatos told her. 'I fear I must bring it to an end.'

'What have you planned for me?' she questioned, drawing her lambswool cloak tighter around her body. She wore nothing underneath, for the air in Lys was always dry and hot, but that night she had a chill she could not shake. As if she knew, or her magic knew, Death would visiting.

'Westeros will soon be plunged into war,' he began softly. 'A long and cold war where the dead will rise and only a prince can save them.'

'Westeros has a prince,' she commented lightly. 'Two of them I believe.'

'But not the right one,' he moved around her, standing imposingly in front of her and blocking the sight of her beloved moon. 'This prince must be born of ice and fire. Magic and the blood of dragons.'

She chuckled lowly. 'Even if I was to consider this, how am I supposed to marry the prince when he does not know I exist?'

'The king has sent his cousin to Essos, to find a worthy Valyrian bride for Rhaegar to marry,' Thanatos told her, a smug smirk on his face. 'You are famous in Essos, your potions and healing herbs are imported to Volantis, Steffon Baratheon will hear of you. He will come in search of you.'

'I will not marry a Targaryen,' she spat the name as though it were a disease. 'Not after what they have done to my family. They are all mad and I will not allow that madness to spread to my children. I refuse.'

'You would plunge this world into darkness over a petty fight that happened before you were born!' His voice was like the crack of thunder, hard and unforgiving, she flinched.

'That _petty_ fight killed off half my ancestors,' she returned angrily. 'All because Allion refused to join Aegon in his conquest. Later because Theralis refused to be Maegor's whore. The Targaryens bring nothing but death to the Peverell line. I would not give King Aerys the satisfaction of knowing my line ends completely by the Targaryens. I will not bear that name. I cannot.'

'You have no choice,' Thanatos countered. 'The prince that was promised must be born and only you and Rhaegar Targaryen can be the parents. If you do not do this then millions will die, Essos will not remain untouched. Is that what you want? The death of this world at the hands of Artemis Peverell.'

'I am not sending them to their deaths,' she argued but Thanatos would not have it.

'You have the power to prevent their deaths, to do nothing is just the same as if you had swung the sword. Your pride seems a little price to pay save the world.'

Her hands clenched and she turned from him. He was right, he always was, she could not sit by and watch people die. Not if she could stop it. But could she betray her ancestors like that? Those who had sworn the Targaryens would forever be their enemies? Her ancestors were dead, but those who would suffer the cold night to come were not so. It seemed an easy choice, but her pride and knowledge of the Targaryen madness held her back.

'I will think on it,' she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She turned from Death and walked up the winding path through her garden. His voice called out to her solemnly.

'Do not think for too long, Artemis, time waits for no man.'

She did not fall to sleep easily that night and when she did they were plagued by screams, dragon fire and the walking dead. She was still undecided about what to do when the sun peeked over the horizon. She ate her breakfast in silence, went about her business in silence, and tended her garden in silence. Mindless tasks that kept her hands busy. It wasn't until Draco took her shears and Blaise wrapped his arms around her that afternoon that she realised she was crying.

'I can't do it,' she whispered to them.

'You've done things you don't want to do before,' Draco told her. 'Voldemort, Hades, Kerla, Lirean.'

'This is different,' she cried, 'those were bad guys that I defeated. I didn't have to marry them.'

'No, but the Targaryens are not the real enemy here,' Blaise whispered and quickly quieted Artemis when she let out an indignant noise. 'They have been the cause of problems in the past, I'm not denying that. But in the long run they aren't the threat. The storm that is gathering beyond the Wall in Westeros is. Only dragons and magic can conquer this foe. If marrying into the family you hate means saving innocent lives from peril, then it is something you must do. From what I have heard the Crown Prince is an honourable and well respected man. He will treat you right.'

'And if he doesn't, Blaise and I will kick his ass,' Draco's comment went ignored.

'Why are you always the voice of reason, Blaise?' she asked tearfully.

'Because someone here has to be,' he looked over to Draco with a frown. 'Can you really imagine Draco in that role?'

'Not in the slightest,' she laughed and hugged him tightly to her. 'I will do as Thanatos asked. I will marry the prince, be the mother of the prince that was promised and be the best queen Westeros has ever had.'

'I wouldn't expect anything less,' Draco sniffed, the very epitome of the pureblood wizard he once was.

They were in the music room three weeks later, goofing off and dancing silly to the instruments that had been enchanted to play, when they heard news of Steffon Baratheon's arrival to Lys.

OoO

He'd heard all about Lys or, more aptly, the beautiful women and the pleasure houses, and like every hot blooded young man he had wished to go there and experience all it had to offer. Of course, he was older now and had a wife that he loved and his own children. He had no such desires anymore. But here he was, docked in the lower harbour of lys, waiting to see if Five Lords of Lys would grant him permission to speak with the girl he had not stopped hearing about since he landed in Essos.

He stood upon the deck, watching his men come and go, some were in the port with their arms wrapped around a giggling silver-haired beauty. Valyrian blood ran strong in Lys. The girls were without a doubt beautiful and he could see how they would make pretty bed mates and mistresses. He wondered if the one they called their light would be as beautiful. All those of Valyrian descent seemed to hold some allure. Queen Rhaella was beautiful and seemed to hold a mysterious quality to her, even under the sufferings of her husband. The king had once been handsome and drew all the ladies' eye, now he was not so pleasing to behold, and the role of handsome and gallant Targaryen had passed to Rhaegar.

It was due to Rhaegar that he was here, though it was King Aerys' order, he was to find a bride of decent valyrian heritage for the prince to marry. Steffon had seen a few candidates that fit Aerys' high standards, but to Steffon they were not right. They would not make a good queen or wife for Rhaegar, they were either too spoilt or too cruel. Westeros needed no more cruelty. He was in Volantis when he first heard of the Light of Lys in detail, everywhere else spoke of her as though she were a ghost, though there was never a bad word to pass their lips. The volanteen told him of her healing potions, one even cured Dragonscale when in its earliest form, one merchant who brought her wares to Volantis told him of her beauty, of her kindness, she charged the bare minimum for the potions and those who were really suffering had been given them for free.

It was only when he got to Lys that he was told of her ancestry, and why he had to go through the Five Lords to get to her, she was from a family that had once lived in Valyria and was the last of her house. It seemed like it was fate.

He knew he had to meet her at the very least.

'Thinking of these beautiful women, husband?'

He smiled and turned to capture his wife in his arms. 'You are the only beauty I care for, Cassana.' He pressed a kiss to her temple, turning them both to watch the port activity.

'There is another beauty I am worried about,' Cassana sighed. 'The Light of Lys is our last chance. I fear what should happen if we return empty handed.'

'Hush, my love,' he kissed her temple again. 'I have a good feeling about this girl. All we need to do is wait.'

He waited for three days before he granted permission and was led to the Peverell home by Lord Jahario. A man who had raised the girl and, judging by the way he spoke, was very protective of her. _They all are,_ he thought, _all of the people love her. I wonder if it will be the same in King's Landing._ He was certain this was the right path to lead him to the future queen of Westeros. She lived atop the highest hill in Lys, it overlooked the town and the ocean and was the biggest and grandest of all that he had passed. Beside him Cassana lightly touched his hand, she was nervous, admittedly, so was he. They were stopped by, what appeared to be, two guards at the door.

'Draco, Blaise,' Jahario nodded to them. 'Lord Steffon, might I introduce you to my youngest son. Draco, this is Lord Steffon Baratheon, he seeks an audience with Lady Artemis, is she free?'

'Lord Baratheon,' Draco nodded, the other boy remained unmoving, but his eyes were calculating. 'Artemis is in her garden. You can go through, she's expecting you.'

Steffon noted the lack of formal address when he spoke of the lady. The boy was similar to his father, the silvery blonde hair and tall broad frames were the same but the son's eyes were a stormy grey where the father were a pale purple. The other boy was not Valyrian, he was caramel skinned, dark long hair and almost black eyes, a Dothraki if the arakh at his side was anything to go by.

They moved to enter the home but the Dothraki guard prevented Steffon's entrance. 'You cannot go before Artemis armed,' he told him. 'And your guards will remain outside.'

Steffon narrowed his eyes, but acquiesced to the demands and handed over his sword and dagger. He felt naked without them. He followed Jahario through the halls, the two guards trailing behind them.

'Draco and Blaise are Artemis' personal guards and friends,' Jahario supplied the information freely and Steffon wondered how friendly they were. Certainly they looked to be loyal to the girl.

The home of Artemis Peverell was a happy one. Even the slaves, though wearing pretty collars, were dressed lavishly and took the time to laugh and joke with their peers as they went about their business. It baffled him to see such amicability given freely. His opinion of the Light of Lys had risen and he had yet to meet the girl behind such love and devotion.

He saw her back before he saw the girl, she was bent over and sniffing what looked to be a rose, she wore a loose white dress. Belted with a mesh like golden material. Enough to leave her flesh covered but not enough to hide her shape and when she stood he saw the flare of her hips and small waist. Her hair, long and pure silver, tumbled down her back in luscious curls. When she turned his breath caught in his throat, she was stunningly ethereal, far surpassing that of Rhaella. She smiled at them and he was reminded of his mother when he'd been especially good.

'My lady,' she motioned to the flower, 'would be so kind as to tell me what this rose smells like?'

Looking to him, he gave her a small nod, and Cassana hesitantly stepped up to the strangely yellow rose. She bent and inhaled, jerking away with a gasp, Steffon moved forwards but paused at his wife's wondrous tone. 'They smell like lemons.'

'Of course they do!' Artemis laughed. 'They are lemon roses after all. I asked you to smell them just to be sure they were not playing tricks on me. They are poisonous when plucked too soon, but at the right time, they taste great with tea, heals a small headache too.'

'They are beautiful,' Cassana told her.

Artemis leant towards the rose his wife had inhaled the fragrance of and fingered the petals for a moment. She snipped it from the bush and carefully pulled off the thorns before turning to Cassana and placing it in her hair. 'The rose likes you,' she said wryly, before plucking another rose and twirling the stem in her hands. 'Come, we will take tea on the veranda and I shall also introduce myself.' She turned and walked further down the path.

'I like her,' Cassana told him as he stepped up to her. 'She has kind eyes.'

His wife liked her because she had been complimented by the girl, Steffon snorted and shook his head, still, the girl was intriguing. She led to the veranda, a small deck where a pavilion shaded them from the sun. A table had been carved in the centre and was decorated with fruits and tea.

'If you prefer cakes,' Artemis told them as they sat, 'I can have them brought up. I just thought that fruit was more refreshing to one not so used to the heat of Lys.'

'The fruit is perfect,' Cassana responded, picking up a strange red fruit, it had been cut in half and the flesh was of a strange milky colour with black dots. 'What is this? I have never seen such a strange looking fruit before.'

'It has many names,' Artemis responded. 'Buah naga, thanh long, huǒ lóng guǒ, pitaya,' she leant forwards a small mischievous smile playing on her lips as she uttered her next words. 'More commonly it is known as dragon fruit. It has quite a creamy taste to it.'

Steffon knew in that moment she knew why he was there, how could he not, it was clear she had chosen the dragon fruit especially for their arrival. The mischief in her eyes coupled with the secretive smiles her guards shared all but screamed at him. He looked at Artemis like he would his fellow lords, with a sense of respect and suspicion, she merely smiled at him and poured them some tea. She took her yellow rose and plucked its petals, pressing them to the lip of the cups and allowing them to dip into the cool liquid.

'Nothing like cool lemon tea to help a hot day pass by,' she told them, her fingers caressing the cup. 'Come now, let's exchange the pleasantries. I fear this should have been done first, I get terribly side-tracked when it comes to my flowers.'

His wife remained oblivious to the internal play, politics never was her strongest skill, but Steffon got the feeling she hadn't been side-tracked at all. She was testing them in her own strange way. It seemed he passed. 'My lady,' he began. 'I am Lord Steffon Baratheon and I have been sent as an envoy for King Aerys Targaryen. My wife is Cassana.'

'Tis a pleasure to meet you,' she inclined her head, 'I am Artemis Peverell.'

'The Light of Lys,' Cassana added with a sparkle in her eye, she'd been curious about the girl ever since she had tried one of her remedies for sea sickness. 'How did you get this name?'

'It's what the people have called me since I was a child,' there was a fondness in her eyes that spoke of her love for the citizens of Lys. 'I've always loved to help people, I cannot stand to see them hurting no matter their birth. I often stole away into the town at night to heal the sick and give contraception to the pleasure slaves. It was the slaves who called me their light and the name has stuck.'

Steffon got the feeling she would be just as caring of the people of King's Landing, even those in Flea Bottom. No, especially those in Flea Bottom who cannot afford the luxury of medicine. He saw in her gait the potential of a queen, she already made an imposing lady, she had the right substance to be queen.

'Perhaps,' Jahario said, taking a sip of his tea, 'we should get down to business. I hardly think you are trespassing upon Artemis' precious time for simple gossip mongering. Why are you really here?'

Steffon coughed, sitting straighter in his chair and donning the mask of the Lord of the Stormlands. 'Indeed, though my wife could gossip all day, it is not why we are here.' He gave the girl an assessing look, for all his guardianship Jahario would not be the one making the decision. 'King Aerys sent me to the Free Cities to procure a wife of Valyrian descent for his son, Rhaegar.'

'And you seek the hand of Artemis?' Jahario spat, angered, though Steffon could not see why. 'After all that wretched family has done to hers? Do you mean to give insult? Are you as mad as that damned king of yours?'

'Uncle, please,' Artemis held up her hand and Jahario silenced himself. 'I doubt Lord Baratheon knows of the history between my house and House Targaryen. Lord Baratheon, you must excuse my uncle's behaviour. The history between the two houses is long and very bloody.'

'All is forgiven,' Steffon said tensely wondering if the bad blood between House Peverell and House Targaryen would sway her choice.

'You should find another bride, Lord Baratheon,' Jahario told him with only a hint of spite to his tone. 'Artemis will not betray her family and marry into that house.'

'My family is dead, uncle, who is there to betray?' the words were said softly, barely a caress on the breeze. It was the voice of a small girl who had seen death and horror.

'You cannot be serious?' Jahario cried, standing from his chair, his fists thumping onto the table.

'Perhaps it is best to lay to rest the ghosts of the past once and for all,' she responded sagely. ' _My house dies with me so maybe it should die in peace with its greatest enemy._ _This is how it must be, uncle, please, trust me like you always have._ '

Her last words were spoken in High Valyrian, a language that Steffon did not understand and was rarely uttered in Westeros.

' _I will always trust you,_ ' Jahario nodded and slumped back into his chair in defeat. 'Very well, do what you desire.'

Steffon could not believe the man would give up so easily, but then he was not her real family, and it was Artemis who seemed to hold the real power in Lys. He couldn't help the smile of triumph that appeared on his face, the scowl on Jahario's deepened at the sight.

'Do not look like you have won yet, Lord Baratheon. I have not agreed to marry your prince,' she laughed, clear and high like the tinkling of bells.

'Then what was your speech for?' he asked confused, beside him, his wife gave a laugh.

'I believe the lady does not wish to marry a man she does not know,' Cassana told him and Artemis nodded.

'But I am willing to meet your prince,' she conceded, 'then make my decision. It is the only offer you are going to get from me on the matter, if King Aerys wants a Valyrian bride, who better than the only heir of the house the Targaryen's have sought to end since Aegon set out to conquer Westeros? You'd be wise to accept my offer.'

Steffon did accept in the end and it was agreed that Artemis would be given a week to sort out her affairs before they embarked to Westeros. He sent a messenger ahead of him on a merchant galley bound for King's Landing, with Artemis' offer, he could only hope the king would understand.

OoO

Queen Rhaella Targaryen was, not for the first time, worried. Her brother-husband had been deliriously gleeful for the past few days and through his nonsensical giggling she had been able to determine a few things. Steffon had found her son a worthy bride, said bride had not yet agreed to the match but first wanted to meet Rhaegar and then decide. She was not worried about this, Rhaegar took after her, thank the seven, and was as handsome as he was noble. Surely the girl would be able to see this. And she had every faith her son would be able to charm her.

It was something far greater that worried her.

Last night Aerys had come to her, sought her bed and savagely fucked her, but once he was done he had petted her hair. Told her House Targaryen had won and the last of the Peverell's shall be theirs. She knew of only one Peverell, the girl who had the Free Cities loving her and was rumoured to be very gifted.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, hallowed and afraid it stared back at her. Her flesh bare, bruised and sore. She was a shadow of the wilful girl she had been, thanks to her father and the words of prophecy. A knock sounded on her door, a muffled voice that would recognise until she died called out to her, she granted entrance.

Her son took one look at her, sighed his sorrow filled sigh, picked up a robe and wrapped it around her. 'I am sorry, mother,' he whispered to her. She smiled and petted his hair, an act that mirrored Aerys' to her, but her touch was filled with a mother's love. Rhaegar murmured words of comfort to her, but, this time, she had no time to be comforted.

'Things are changing, my son,' she told him, forcing him to look at her. 'Your father's cousin is due to return any day now with a girl from Lys.'

'I am to marry,' Rhaegar deduced with a sigh.

'No,' she smiled, remembering a girl who had not wished to marry at all, but rather go on adventures. She wondered if the Peverell girl was to be like her. She wondered how fast King's Landing would break her. 'She has not agreed to be your bride. She wishes to meet you for herself.'

'She wants to meet me first?' There was a hint of nerves in her son's tone that had her laughing.

'Worry not, Rhaegar, I am certain she will love you,' she kissed his forehead. 'Your father insists on this match. He wants the girl tied to the Targaryen bloodline.'

'Why?' His eyes narrowed and she knew he was thinking of what his father might want with the girl.

'She is of House Peverell. The last Peverell,' her tone was grave. 'House Peverell has been enemies with House Targaryen ever since Aegon set out on Balerion. Allion Peverell refused to help Aegon conquer Westeros, Aegon's fury almost destroyed them. Then there was Theralis Peverell, called the Queen of Beauty in every land, King Maegor wanted her for his bride. She refused. He took her anyway and the Peverell's and the Targaryen's fought once more. It has been like this throughout history. Your father sees this girl as a battle and her becoming your wife as a victory. He wants the last laugh, Rhaegar.'

'I do not understand why Aegon felt the need to destroy House Peverell over a simple refusal,' his brow furrowed in confusion.

'House Targaryen is famed for its dragons and its dragon riders,' she told him, a fond smile lighting up her face at Rhaegar's eagerness to learn. 'House Peverell is famed for its magicians. We are the blood of the dragon and this girl is the blood of magic. Dragons are creatures bound by magic. Aegon saw Allion's refusal as a threat and sought to eliminate that threat. But he underestimated the might of magic.' She ran a hand through her hair. 'House Peverell was once the only house that could destroy House Targaryen but the magic has faded like the dragons.'

'Father wants to end the line of Peverell once and for all,' Rhaegar mumbled. 'To eliminate the threat like Aegon once desired.'

'You see now why I am worried,' she turned from Rhaegar and stepped out on to her balcony. The sun warmed her skin and she tilted her face up to its rays. 'I fear this girl shall not be safe, your father will watch her every move until she is with your child. I have heard many things about her and I fear she is as gifted as her ancestors. I am going to tell you something Rhaegar, something your father does not know and something you cannot repeat to anyone.'

'I am listening,' he moved close to her.

'The last dragon died at the same moment the last Peverell, gifted in the art of true magic, died. It could be a coincidence but I do not think it so.'

'You say dragons are bound by magic,' Rhaegar swallowed thickly. 'If the magic dies so too does the dragon.'

'This girl has magic, Rhaegar. Powerful magic.' She told him seriously.

'She can bring back dragons,' he whispered breathlessly.

'I taught you the words of the prophecy when you were on the cusp of manhood,' Rhaella whispered. 'The prince that was promised will be born of the line of your father and I and his will be the song of ice and fire. Two elements that have been at constant war with each other, brought together and unified. Should you marry this Peverell girl, should she bare you an heir, then he will be the blood of the dragon and of magic.'

The Peverell girl held a lot more than deciding who she would marry in her hands. This, Rhaella knew for sure.

OoO

She decided to forgo the flowery dresses upon her arrival in King's Landing, they had been locked away in her trunk, instead she decided to embrace the warrior within her soul. She donned the outfit she had placed within her magic trunk that came from her days as an elven warrior. It was the outfit she wore when hunting. A thin cotton-like tunic was used as an undershirt, open at the neck, over that was a corset style boiled leather jerkin, stitched at the front and secured with straps, her britches were made of a cotton-spandex, around her waist was a sword belt and her sword was that of her first ancestors, the Sword of Gryffindor. At her other hip sat a quiver of bows, gifted to her from the elves, as was the bow slung across her back. She wore a pair of durable and lightweight boots. She did not make a sound when she walked. Her outfit was black, a stark contrast to the silver sword and hair she bore.

'Well now, isn't this a sight for sore eyes,' Draco commented as she emerged from below deck. 'You look dramatic.'

'She needs to be,' Blaise nodded, approving the outfit. 'She is entering the lair of the dragon, she needs to let them know she will not be a walkover.'

She wouldn't be a walkover, not by a long shot, if Aerys Targaryen thought he was getting a meek little girl who did not know how to play the game, he would soon be realising his mistake. She was Artemis Peverell, the Master of Death, she had been a ruler in a world far more savage than this before. She would not bow before her enemies, nor would she stand before them helpless and innocent.

A guard of gold cloaks, headed by two white cloaks, met them at the harbour, declaring themselves to be their escort and protection through King's Landing. They mounted their horse, hers was a white mare, pure as snow. She petted the filly as they rode through the streets, Draco at her left and Blaise at her right.

'I fear the king thinks I might flee,' she told Draco and Blaise, 'to send so many men to guard me.'

'It's for your protection, my lady,' one of the white cloaks, Ser Barristan, told her.

'Then I fear I should be lost in a sea of men should anyone dare attack,' she responded with a small smile. 'I assure you, ser, I'm more than capable of defending myself. Draco and Blaise are all I need.'

'I can see that, my lady,' he nodded to her sword. 'But I have my orders and some parts of King's Landing are not safe.'

'Not safe for whom? The lord and ladies who stand upon the backs of those they deem lesser than themselves, only to declare themselves benevolent benefactors?' she snorted and shook her head. 'I can see the worth in a man who follows orders, but a man who does so without question is nothing more than a mindless sheep with a pointy sword. Tell me, Ser Barristan, are you a bleating sheep or a knight?'

' _The man is a sheep,'_ Draco mumbled quietly in their mother tongue.

'I am a man who obeys his king,' Ser Barristan responded. 'As every knight of the kingsguard should.'

'So politically correct,' she hummed. 'Forgive me, I am a little naïve of Westerosi kings and their rules, but the king the protector of the realm, correct?'

'Yes,' Ser Barristan nodded, curiosity in his eyes.

'So a king who does not protect the realm, who harms his people, is merely a tyrant and no real king at all. What is a kingsguard without a king to guard?' she paused, letting her words sink in before shrugging it off and laughing. 'I shall leave the philosophical questions to the maesters. What am I but a foreigner? Westerosi customs are so strange.'

'A kingsguard serves the crown,' Barristan told her quietly, for they had now entered the Red Keep. 'Therefore, they serve the man who wears the crown.'

'Perhaps you should be called a crownsguard instead then?' she pondered with a laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Draco's bemused expression and smirked to herself. The gold cloaks disappeared once they entered the courtyard of the Keep, only the two white cloaks remained, they dismounted and Artemis followed their lead.

She was led from the courtyard and into the castle, eyes followed her movements, some cautious and some curious. Behind her Draco and Blaise moved as silently as she, theirs eyes assessing their surroundings and looking for threats. Her nerves were on edge and her body tense, her hands hovered over her quiver and sword. It wasn't until she entered the throne room and saw the skulls of the dragons that her anger emerged. The first was of Balerion, the Black Dread, the dragon that had nearly wiped out her entire house, had it not been for the magic that subdued him and had Aegon Targaryen fleeing.

She stifled the anger, barely, her assessment of the skulls had not broken her casual gait through the long length of the room. It was not a private audience that Aerys Targaryen sought, the hall was packed with nobles, not doubt he wished to gloat over his triumph. Indeed his first words were enough to make her stomach curdle with distaste.

'Never before has a Peverell walked these halls,' he laughed, insane and utterly repulsive. 'Do you like the dragon skulls? Do you see the might of House Targaryen, little girl?'

So, he meant to demean her.

'Forgive me, your grace,' she said calmly, 'though the skulls are indeed magnificent.' The king puffed up, a proud smirk appearing on his face. 'They are, at the end of the day, just skulls. No more than a ghost, a shadow, of what once was. If anything, they serve to highlight just what House Targaryen has lost. The dead don't frighten me.'

'It seems to me that House Peverell has lost everything,' he sneered at her, taking the thinly veiled insult for what it was. 'Only you remain.'

She tilted her head to the side, watched the king twitch on the throne through half-lidded eyes, a slow and secretive smile playing on her lips. The hall was so silent you could hear a pin drop and when she spoke, her words echoed. ' _Valar morghulis._ '

The king's upper lip curled in distaste but he had no response for her, they both knew she had won the first round. He lifted his hand and motioned to his left, she followed the gesture and found herself looking at, who was obviously, Rhaegar Targaryen.

He was handsome and if she had been on earth she would have wondered if the Grimm brother's modelled Prince Charming after him. His hair was long and silver, blonder than her own, and his eyes were of an indigo colour and swirled with melancholy light. He was tall, slight yet muscled, and his face was a hard mask of indifference. As their eyes met, he gave her a small smile. He seemed not to suffer the same madness that afflicted his father but she knew more than most how deceiving looks can be.

'You desired to meet with my son before any agreement was made, very well, I shall indulge in your woman's fancy,' he told her, making her lips quirk in suppressed amusement. 'Go, Rhaegar, speak with the girl, please her and let us piss on the memory of her ancestors once and for all.'

She bit the inside of her cheek and had to quickly clamp hold of her magic, lest it do something that she wouldn't really regret. Beside her Blaise and Draco bristled at the insult. She took a deep, calming breath and simply rose an eyebrow at the king. He wanted a reaction and he wasn't getting one from her.

'My lady, I am Rhaegar Targaryen,' she had not noticed his approach, but let him take her hand and tried to fight the blush that threatened to grace her cheeks when she felt his lips brush across the back. Her magic stirred beneath her skin, spreading across her hand and brushing against him like a sensual caress. Clearly her magic like him. 'Come, let me show you to your chamber, I am sure you are weary from your journey and would like to rest.'

'I just spent the past week or so in a cabin on a ship, resting is not high on my list of priorities.' She told him, the idea that he thought her to be some weak courtly girl did not sit well with her. 'Perhaps you could show me around this… lovely… castle.'

He nodded and held out his arm to her, she took it out of courtesy and allowed him to lead her from the room. As soon as the doors shut behind them, she removed her hand, breathed a sigh of relief and laughed.

'You are either incredibly brave or stupidly foolish,' Draco told her, ignoring the presence of the prince completely. 'Though with you, there isn't much of a difference. Either way, I think you made your point.'

'The hidden Slytherin in you came out to play,' Blaise sniggered and they all shared a laugh. 'But there was also hints of the Gryffindor.'

'I thought I might have overdone it with the _valar morghulis_ remark,' she shrugged. 'But, as Draco said, the point was made.' She turned back to Rhaegar and motioned to Draco and Blaise. 'This is Draco and Blaise, they are my personal guards, friends and confidantes.'

He nodded politely towards them and gave a semi-hostile smile. 'Where would you like to see, my lady?'

OoO

He had spent the whole day showing her around the Red Keep, she liked the garden best, though she told him some of the plants were planted wrong. She preceded to hand her sword, bow and quiver to her guards, get on her knees and carefully dig the tulips out of the ground and replant them in a more sunny area. It baffled him. She baffled him. As soon as he saw her walk through the doors and into the hall he mistook her for a power hungry woman, she was beautiful and walked with seduction in her every step. The way her hips moved, the way those sensuous lips curved into that secretive smile, and her eyes so filled with knowledge startled him as much as he fuelled his lust. He'd been hard pushed to fight his arousal as preceded to insult his father in a stunning display of word war.

He could see why Steffon chose her, why his mother was worried, because he could see the power she had. He'd felt her magic brush along his skin in a lingering move of pure sensuality. It left him breathless with the possibilities. He knew then he was going to marry her of his own desires, not only that of his parents. He wanted her. That much was clear when she bent over to smell the lily, her britches spreading tight across her luscious backside. Instantly his mind jumped to what she would be like bent over, naked, with him thrusting into her heat. It had him harder than he had ever been in his life. Something her guards noted and sniggered about for the rest of the day.

Her guards were a source of annoyance. She was familiar with them and they with her, far too familiar then they should be. They seemed not to care. It was clear they only held friendship between them, but he could help the jealousy that rose within him. He hoped to be that familiar with her too one day. It should be easy enough. She was extremely likeable and when he got her away from his father, she was relatively open in her speech and mannerisms.

Today he would not have much time free to spend with her, for he was to be training with his friends and fellow knights. He made his way to the training grounds with Arthur at his side. He wasn't prepared for the audience that was already there. Frowning at his friend he moved forwards, the spectators parting before him.

'There's no way she will win.'

The comment startled him.

'I reckon she will, she's good.'

'For a girl! But she won't beat them.'

He moved forwards quicker and eventually made it to the edge of the ring and what he saw made his eyes widen. Standing with her back to him, in a pair of tight britches and loose tunic, twirling around a wooden stick was Artemis. Before her stood Draco and Blaise, a purely predatory smile on their faces as they advanced. At the small viewing stand stood his little brother, belligerently cheering Artemis on and waving his hands. His made his way towards his brother, keeping an eye out on Artemis. Her clothes and hair were stained with mud, but as he circled around he saw the smile on her face.

'What is the meaning of this?' he asked the Master-At-Arms.

'I have no say in this, your grace,' he responded. 'The little lady demanded to be allowed to fight and well,' he rubbed the back of his head, a blush appearing on his cheeks. 'She's hard to say no to.'

'She's the best!' Viserys chirped, grabbing Rhaegar's sleeve, it was clear to see the adoration in his eyes.

The hard clack of wood on wood drew his attention back to the fight, Draco and Blaise had double teamed her but she blocked their movements. In an impressive display of skill, she twirled her stick, sending theirs flying away from them, swept their feet from under them and had the long sticks pressed against their throats. They both quickly yielded.

They approached the small stand laughing and joking.

Rhaegar was utterly speechless and blown away by her display, seeing her up close he saw how sweaty and dirty she was. Her cheeks were flushed with joy and her hair, bound in a braid, had a few flyaway strands. She looked to him assessing him with a cool gaze, as though she expected him to reprimand her for fighting.

'You have great skill,' he told her honestly once he found his voice. She beamed at him and that was enough to tell him he had said the right thing. He grinned cheekily. 'Of course, I have the greater skill.'

He heard Draco and Blaise groan and saw the spark of challenge in her eyes. She walked over to the rail of weapons, selecting two wooden training swords, she came back and held one out to him. 'Care to test that?' she asked, 'or are you too afraid you ego can't handle the beating?'

The crowd around them ooo'd in response to her words, unable to help himself, he handed Arther his real sword and took the hilt of the wooden one. He stepped into the ring his own smile rising at the sight of her mischievous grin. He would definitely show her who was in charge.

They circled each other, daring the other to make a move, round they went until Artemis lunged forwards striking at him. He parried the sword but she danced away before he could counter-strike. She was a fast little minx. He rose to her challenge. They began a dance of wooden swords, thrusting at each other, blocking and parrying, neither really taking the upper hand. Their laughter rang around the training grounds and the world around them fell away. She was beautiful, the way she'd draw him in, flash him a grin and twirl away from his reach.

It became less of a fight and more of a game of seduction.

Rhaegar was half fuelled by the desire to win and the desire to touch the temptress that evaded him. He moved forwards with a downward stroke of his sword, she caught it on hers and slid forwards until the wooden shafts met at the hilt. He was grateful he was wearing loose pants today, his own shaft was hard with his lust for her.

'Tut, tut, tut,' she shook her head. 'I'm sure you can do better than that, your grace.'

He narrowed his eyes, determined to end the game, he span their swords around and, with a hard jerk, her sword went flying. Grinning, he advanced upon her. 'Who can do better?' he asked teasingly, running the sword down her chest, not quite touching her but enough to make her feel its presence. 'I think I win,' he told her.

'Think again, handsome,' she threw him a salacious wink, dropped to the ground, her leg shooting out and sweeping his leg out. He fell to the floor, his sword dropping, she wasn't far behind him. Blinking away the dark spots he looked up to her victorious grin, his sword in her grasp, the blunted smooth tip pressed against his throat. 'Yield.' She demanded.

'If I don't?' he asked, his eyebrow raising.

'I will make you,' she told him, leaning forwards, her hand pressed against his chest. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, before biting on it, an impish look in her eyes that set him on edge. Slowly, the movement barely there, she rolled her hips into his. His eye went wide and the feel of her brushing against his clothed manhood, his hands shot to her hips to still the movement, but the damage was done. He groaned, his eyes closing and trembling hands squeezed her hips.

Yielding was going to be worth it for what he had planned next.

'I yield,' he declared, his hand shooting up to grasp her hair and yank her down to him. He sealed his lips over hers like a man starved. She let out an indignant squeak and he took advantage, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, her magic rose to the surface and brushed eagerly against him. She was stiff for only a moment or two, before she tentatively brushed her tongue against his own. He groaned against her lips, she tasted of apples and oranges, such an innocent taste compared to her seductive actions. He pulled away, only to have her lips pressed against his, this time of her own volition. Who was he to deny her?

'Rhaegar.'

His mother's voice definitely wasn't the voice he wanted to hear saying his name. It broke through the hazy cloud that had settled over the two and slowly they broke a part to look upon the queen who stood at Rhaegar's head.

'You have an audience, dear,' she told him a soft smile upon her face and amusement shining in her eyes.

He looked around him dumbly and sure enough the faces of a dozen knights, squires and training boys stared back at him, some with a knowingness, others with jealousy, and few curious gazes of those boys too young to understand a woman's weapon.

'Oh,' the gasp of surprise had him turning back to Artemis. She sat up quickly, the motion causing her to once again rub against his clothed erection, he stifled a moan and watched her look around her, an embarrassed flush rising in her cheeks. She looked from Rhaegar to the queen and to those around her before letting out a tiny shriek of embarrassment, she was running away before he could stop her.

'Well,' Rhaella laughed. 'I'd say you're doing a very good job at wooing her.'

'Physical attraction is hardly the precursor to love,' he groaned.

'No but going after her and comforting her through her embarrassment might be,' Rhaella gave him a wink and walked away, Viserys' hand wrapped tightly around her own.

He got to his feet and, trying to salvage the rest of his dignity, walked back to where Arthur stood with a smirk on his face. Draco and Blaise were gone, no doubt chasing after Artemis. He took the sword from his friend and fastened it back around his waist.

'If it's any consolation,' Arthur grinned. 'I would have yielded too.'

It wasn't much of a consolation, he scowled and shoved Arthur.

'So,' Arthur could barely contain his sniggers. 'Would you like to walk it off before you go find her?'

Sometimes, Rhaegar hated his friend.

OoO

She'd never really believed one could die of mortification, but she was starting to believe, she was currently wrapped in a blanket and sat under the table, hiding from the world. She'd ran to her room the moment she realised what had happened. Five hours later and she was bathed, wearing a pair of panties and a large men's button up shirt – a comfort from her life as the girl-who-lived – and huddled under the desk.

'Come on, Artemis,' Draco said, he was crouched down beside the table. 'It wasn't that bad.'

'Oh yeah? I don't see you throwing yourself at a guy you just met,' her voice was muffled from the blanket wrapped around her head. 'Merlin, he probably thinks I'm a whore.'

'Is that what this is about?' her blonde friend was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. 'His opinion of you? Artemis, do you like Rhaegar?'

'I don't know,' she mumbled. 'My magic certainly does, it takes every moment it can to touch him. He's certainly hot and, in the words of Ginny, I would totally do him. But I don't know him well enough to know if I like him.'

'There was certainly a connection out in the fighting ring.' Draco sighed. 'It was like watching King Hale and Queen Raven all over again.'

'But Hale and Raven were soul mates,' Artemis whined.

'Exactly.'

Shocked, she crawled out of her not so subtle hiding place and stood, the blanket pooling around her feet. 'You think Rhaegar and I are soul mates?'

'The way you acted in the ring,' he ran his hand through his hair. 'Merlin, it was like you and he were the only once in the universe. You were so centred on him and he you. You were each other's own centre of gravity.'

She hadn't realised that was what it had been like to watch. All she knew was time fell away and she had a lot fun with Rhaegar. Kissing him filled her with such a warmth that she didn't want it to end, so when he pulled away, she naturally sought another. Her bottom lip trembled, she was unsure of what was happening.

'You and Rhaegar were always meant to be,' Draco told her honestly.

The words broke her thoughts, because she realised he was right, Rhaegar was meant to be with her. It was prophesised. All she was doing by not accepting the marriage contract was delaying the inevitable. The door opened and Blaise walked in, followed by the very man they had been talking about.

'I brought him like you asked,' Blaise told Draco with a grin and she knew they had conspired against her. She was proven right a moment later when they excused themselves.

There was silence.

He looked at her and gave her small smile, just a small lift of his lips and he screamed boyish charm. She blushed, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. The material bunched up and drew further up legs, all but revealing her panties to him. He choked on a breath and realisation at what she was wearing dawned on her.

She squeaked and dove back under the table and covered herself with a blanket. She wouldn't come out until old age took her, prophecy be damned.

'Artemis,' Rhaegar called, 'why do you hide?'

'Go away,' she mumbled.

'No,' he told her, his voice sounding much closer. 'Come out.'

'Make me,' she muttered childishly under her breath. 'I don't wanna,' she called to him.

'Please,' he coaxed. 'Let me see that beautiful smile of yours.'

Her face once again grew hot. 'All I seem to do is embarrass myself in front of you.'

'Embarrass yourself?' he seemed shocked, but without looking at him she couldn't tell.

'First I'm all over you like a whore,' she moaned. 'Then I'm _dressed_ like a whore when Blaise brings you to my room. I didn't know you'd be coming here!'

She heard a deep sigh and the rustling of clothes, he was moving, then her blanket was thrown back and Rhaegar joined her under the table. 'You were not 'all over me like a whore', I distinctly remember I was the one to kiss you.' He gave her that boyish smile. 'Though you are dressed peculiarly, I would exactly say it is what whores wear.'

'But I…' _ground shamelessly against you in order to win our fight. By the way, Rhaegar, nice package you're sporting. Yeah because that will not make me seem like a bitch in heat._

'Do you regret the kiss?' he asked seriously and she shook her head, if anything, she wanted him to kiss her again. 'Then there is nothing to be ashamed about. So what if people saw. I do not care and neither should you.' He fingered a lock of her hair absently. 'What _are_ you wearing?'

'It's a guy's shirt,' she shrugged, Rhaegar stiffened and drew away from her slightly, looking surprised. It took a lot longer than it should have to realise why. 'It's my shirt!' she panicked, flailing her arms about. 'I just meant that originally it was meant for a guy. I wear it because it's comfy.'

He looked relieved and drew her to him, moving so that she was all but laying on him. 'I thought it belonged to your guards.'

'Draco and Blaise?' she was utterly disgusted by the idea. 'You thought I'd wear their clothes.'

'You are awfully close,' he mumbled.

'I have no romantic feelings for Draco and Blaise,' she laughed. 'Besides, I'm a few appendages short of what they like.'

'You mean…' he trailed off, wide-eyed and a look of revelation on his face. It was adorable. She laughed.

'They are more into each other than they are me,' she told him, keeping the fact that Draco and Blaise liked both men and women a secret for now. 'I wouldn't wear their clothes, ever. I wouldn't mind wearing your clothes,' she mumbled, not aware she was speaking out loud. 'You smell good.'

His hand moved to settle on her hip, his fingers tracing circles, and a pleased smile graced his lips. 'What do I smell like?' he asked her curiously.

'Something woodsy,' she murmured embarrassed, 'and minty.'

'Artemis?' his free hand ran down her cheek and tilted her chin up.

'Hmm?' She responded, watching as his eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes.

'May I kiss you?' He asked quietly, she nodded.

This time their kiss was slow, full of exploration and heat rather than the spur of the moment kiss from earlier. It was gentle. The broke apart and drew back together like the ebb and flow of the tide. There were long kisses followed by short kisses. Teasing brushes of lips and whispered words. They spoke all night, asked questions to get to know one another but for every answer that was given there were more kisses shared.

He seemed obsessed by her lips, for when they weren't kissing or talking, Rhaegar would brush his thumb across them. She smiled at him. She could feel his arousal pressing thickly against her, but he didn't push for more, her own body wanted him just as much. Her panties were damp with her desire for the man. But they would not act on their desires. For now kissing was enough.

Artemis realised that Draco was right about her and Rhaegar, but then he usually was, the smug bastard.

'What is your favourite colour?' she asked him with a small laugh, it seemed such a mundane question to ask.

'I have always been fond of green,' he told her softly, both of them barely spoke above a whisper, too afraid to break the perfect bubble created around them. 'It is the colour of life. What is your favourite animal?'

'Wolf,' she answered immediately. 'They are the epitome of wild freedom. They are beautiful. What do you like to do most in this world?'

'I like to go to Summerhall, play my harp and write new songs. Mother is always happy when I return with a song, she is always the first to hear them.' He ran his nose along hers, leaning down to steal a kiss from her swollen lips.

'Will you sing for me?' She asked, wondering if he was any good. She had once tried to play the harp but could never master it.

'Will you marry me?' He returned.

'It's rude to answer a question with a question.'

'I will sing for you whenever your heart desires.'

'Then I suppose I can marry you.'

* * *

A/N: Wow! That was long. What did you think? Was it enough for a one shot? I'm considering adding more but I don't know. What do you guys think? Should I add another chapter with them getting married, dragons returning and the Long Night being fought?

(Please note: I am very aware, thanks to many, many reviews, that this story is similar to Phoenix Queen by Sereven. I would like to point out that I took inspiration from a few points of kvdsouza's challenge. A challenge that Sereven has fully taken on board. Hence the similarities. Please, stop telling me this. When I see I have a new review I get excited, because someone has gone out of their way to write something about my story, only to read that this story is like Phoenix Queen. Once again, I'm aware.)

Please Review.


	2. Past and Future Alliances

A/N: Apparently people liked the one-shot... so I've decided to continue this story through a series of one-shots. Some may be drabbly in length, if that's the case, then I will post more than one one-shot in a chapter, as I have done below. Three one-shots occurring at different points throughout history and Artemis' time in King's Landing.

Also, I wish to address something. A lot of reviewers have said that the previous one-shot is a lot like Phoenix Queen by Sereven. I read that story and I guess mine is awfully similar in the beginning. I wrote the previous chapter just after I watched the first episode of season six. I also got the idea of having Artemis in the free cities and having Steffon Baratheon finding her through World of Ice and Fire, where it states that Lord Baratheon was sent to the Free Cities to find a bride for Rhaegar. Having her named Peverell is because of her ancestor who got the cloak and evaded death. Her name is her tie to her immortal soul. She has had many different lives (I'm talking thousands) and been many different creatures. Aside from weaponry and herbology and clothing, she retains nothing from her previous lives. Her magic is the same, it doesn't change.

Lastly, one _major_ difference between this story and Phoenix Queen, is that mine has absolutely no plot, I don't know where I'm going with it. I'm making it up as an idea pops into my head. If an idea pops into my head such as Draco streaking though King's Landing yelling 'Free the turtles', it may get written fully. Also, to reiterate, this story is not meant to be taken seriously. I had no intentions of extending it beyond what I'd written. It was written as a challenge to myself. Artemis' use of magic is much more blatant, which isn't the case in Phoenix Queen.

So, if you read this chapter and decide to leave a review telling me this is like Phoenix Queen, try to refrain yourself. I'm already aware, as soon as it was pointed out to me I pm'd Sereven to ask her (or him, I don't know... it's a pretty gender neutral penname.) if she (or he) wanted me to delete the story. She (or he) said no, that although some points are similar, she (or he) was responding to a challenge set by someone else and that my story is perfectly fine. Now, if you want to review telling me there is a purple and green unicorn under your bed, feel free to do so, just stop telling me this story is like hers (or his). Please.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Allion stood upon the deck of his ship, holding onto a piece of rope to keep him steady from the violent waves hitting port side. Before him stood a scene of horror. His castle was ablaze and the dark fumes from the flames polluted the sky. His hands shook with violent rage and disbelief. He could not believe Aegon would do this. But the evidence was staring him in the face, the great black dragon moved effortlessly in the sky, its fiery breath the cause of his kin's screams.

' _Come with me, help me conquer Westeros,' Aegon had asked of him. 'Fire and magic together, we shall be unstoppable and might of House Targaryen will never be questioned.'_

The childhood friend that he had knocked wooden swords together with was no longer within Aegon's heart. He changed the moment he married Rhaenys, the moment he truly tamed Balerion, he became power hungry. Allion knew it the moment he had uttered those words. It was why he declined, why he ended the long-standing friendship between their families and how they became enemies. If he had agreed then House Peverell would become no more than a slave to House Targaryen and Allion would not allow that. The Targaryens owed their might to House Peverell for it was them who built Dragonstone with magic and mortar, them who gifted the Targaryens their dragons and allowed them to rise before the Doom.

To partner with Aegon would have been to doom his family.

But it seemed his family was doomed either way.

Aegon had taken Allion's refusal as a slight against his house and declared them enemies. He had thought Aegon had forgotten during his conquest, but he now saw his mistake, Allion should not have visited Volantis. He should have stayed on Lys to prepare for this, to aid his pregnant wife. Romana had warned him this would happen, she was a prophetess but that was the extent of her magic, she could not protect herself from dragon fire. Not like Allion, descendant of the first Peverell, Emrys, could.

The flames tortured him, though he was only just close enough to feel their warmth. But his anger swallowed him whole, creating a cesspit of magic that churned around him and disturbed the air. He disappeared from the boat with a crack and appeared the courtyard of his home. Armoured men, baring the sigil of the damned three headed dragon, were fighting his own men. His brother's corpse lay half burnt and half submerged in the fountain. His cousin fought three men. House Peverell was holding back the men on the ground with their magic, but against the dragon lord in the sky they could not win. For every soldier they killed, the dragon would slay five of their own.

He cared not.

He tore past them all, killing those who stood against him in a desperate bid to reach his beloved. He took the steps four at a time, panic increasing with every bend, until he reached the secret garden that his daughter, gifted in plant magic, had raised. The plants, though harmless enough to a chosen few, were vicious and territorial it was the perfect place to hide his wife, heir and daughter. But it was an open space, vast and wild, and, as he rounded the last corner, he saw that it had not been untouched by dragon fire.

He found his wife in the centre of the garden, her charred remains tainting the beauty she had once held. His daughter sobbed by her side and his son stood guard, his sword drawn, but with anguish in his eyes. He approached with a gut wrenching cry, his hand seeking his wife's – a subconscious move of comfort – but it crumbled to ash beneath his touch.

'I tried, father,' his daughter sobbed brokenly. 'I could not save her. I could not.'

He wanted to reassure her, tell her it was not her fault, that it was the dragons who did this. But the words would not rise. His anger had become a cool molten liquid that burned in his blood. He stood, a look of cold fury on his face, and walked to the small veranda that over looked the sea, away from his children. He would show Aegon Targaryen just who the real dragon lords were.

Magic fuelled the air, a smell of lightning surrounded him, he closed his eyes and gathered the power to him. When he opened them again, the purple irises were now the colour of liquid gold. He looked up the sky, to the figure of the Black Dread and roared. 'Dragorn. Non didlkai. Kari miss, epsipass imalla krat. Katostar abore ceriss. Katicur. Me ta sentende divoless. Kar… krisass.'

The dragon roared and squirmed in the sky, trying to fight the hold Allion's magic had on him, but Allion was a true dragon lord and, unlike Aegon, he must obey the words that had been spoken in his tongue. He landed hard, shook his rider from his body and curled away from Allion, knowing that if he commanded Balerion to die, then the dragon must do so. It was self-preservation that him submitting to Allion.

'You have brought my house to its knees, Aegon Targaryen,' Allion sneered angrily as the man quickly got to his feet, the ruby crown upon his head glinting maliciously in the firelight. 'You have killed my beloved wife and kin. I will suffer no more of your tyranny.'

'I told you that there would come a day when you would regret turning on me,' Aegon responded, unsheathing his sword, Blackfyre.

'I did not turn on you, Aegon, I simply had no desire to conquer Westeros. You are the one who took it as a slight.'

'The Targaryens are the superior house!' he sneered. 'We are the ones with the dragons. We are the ones who should rule the lands.'

'It was my ancestor who first gave you your dragons,' Allion responded. 'It was my ancestors who built Dragonstone and gave you your home. It is only through our magic that your dragons are kept alive.'

Aegon reared back in shock, clearly not knowing the final piece of information.

'Dragons are creatures bound by the magic of the true dragon lords,' he gave a hollow laugh. 'The life of Balerion is tied to mine and my descendants. By killing us, you might well have killed your dragons. What a fine man you are,' he gave a mocking bow. 'Your grace.'

Allion had no desire to fight the man, he just wanted this to stop so he could mourn his beloved in peace. He was angry, he wanted Aegon to pay, but he did not want more blood to be shed. So he would take from Aegon that which he valued most.

'Go,' Allion ordered, magic lacing his words. 'Return to your conquered lands but listen well to my words. House Targaryen will pay for this annihilation. I curse your line. For every good Targaryen born there will be twice that bad. Madness, lust and deceit shall boil in your blood until you tear yourselves a part. Then, when your blood is thin and barely clinging to the throne you have made for yourself, when all the dragons are gone in this world, your salvation shall be found in the house that, henceforth, will remain enemies to House Targaryen. One day House Targaryen will show its deceit to be too black and the throne shall be taken from you and House Peverell shall rule forever more.'

OoO

Her silver hair was covered by a dark midnight blue cloak, it was warm and covered her frame heavily, her eyes were dark and face half hidden in shadow. The town of King's Landing was vast and densely populated, one could scarcely move without bumping into some man, woman or child, even at night. But she was a shadow, no more than mist effortlessly flowing around the people, Draco and Blaise were around somewhere. Slung across her back was an enchanted back with an assortment of potions. Her task was the orphanage where she had overheard the small council discussing the outbreak of pox. King Aerys had ordered them all to be executed this very night and the orphanage burned.

She hadn't meant to spy on the small council meeting, she was just curious to see the Hand of the King. Even in Lys the Lannister name was known and somewhat feared. When she looked upon Tywin Lannister she saw a man who desired the best for his family, it was something she could respect, but a brief look into his mind revealed the underhanded techniques he was willing to use to get his family power. She'd heard that his daughter had been brought to court before her arrival, no doubt to sway the king into letting the lion's daughter marry the prince.

Her arrival had changed things, never would the king choose Cersei over her. It had angered Tywin greatly, but the Lord of Lannister was immensely curious about her. But he would never approach her. Not when she had yet to make a name for herself.

Tonight would change a lot of things.

She was going to help the children of the orphanage and stop the city watch from destroying their home. Even if it meant using her magic. She could not stand by and let innocent children die, not when it was over something she could cure so easily, not when they were innocent of any wrong doings.

Entering the orphanage, she found the matron suffering from the pox also. It would be her she would treat first then, as chicken pox was more deadly in adults.

'Who are you?' the matron asked, her voice weary and tired.

She had no time for proper introductions. 'Here's the deal, lady, I'm here to cure you and the children. If I don't then the city watch will burn this place down and kill you all.' She reached into her bag and pulled out a simple healing potion. 'Drink this then gather the children.'

She stormed past the stunned woman and into, what appeared to be, the main living area. It was barely furnished and what could pass as furniture was broken and the wood rotting. She turned from the sight with a sigh, she pulled her cloak from her and tossed it over a chair, setting her bag down she began to rummage through it and pull out some potions and creams. Slowly, bleary eyed children began pouring into the room, murmuring incoherently. She had them line up before her and handed out the potions one by one, one was to heal the pox and the other a pepper-up potion, on the worse cases where the pox had begun to scar or bleed she applied the cream.

The matron came back into the room, two babies in her arms that were bawling, she took one look at the silver haired girl and gasped. 'M-Milady,' she gasped and clumsily curtseyed. Artemis rolled her eyes. All of King's Landing had heard of her betrothal to Prince Rhaegar and, though they had not all seen her, there certainly weren't many noble girls with silver hair running around.

'Call me Artemis,' she insisted as she dipped stopper into the vials and fed the potions to the babies.

'I couldn't,' the matron responded bashfully, a curious gleam in her eyes and it was social decorum that kept her mouth silent.

'Ask,' Artemis called as she returned to the waiting children.

'Its jus' I don't understand why you'd come 'ere,' she frowned. 'Nobles don't like to mingle with the smallfolk. You're to marry the prince.'

Some of the cured children cottoned on to who she was and began looking at her in awe and whispering that they'd been healed by a princess. Artemis smiled indulgently at them. 'Nobles, smallfolk, it makes no difference to me. You are all human beings.' She reached out a hand and caressed the cherubic face of a little girl with brown curls and large doe eyes. 'You think and feel just like me. We are the same. I heal anyone in need of healing.'

'B-But we don't have the gold to pay you,' the matron looked to be close to sobbing.

'Even if you did I would not accept it,' she responded gently.

When she cured the last child the matron, who had put the babies in crude cribs, threw her arms around her future queen and sobbed in relief. Artemis awkwardly patted the greasy hair and whispered words of reassurance to the older woman.

Draco and Blaise appeared at her side from the shadows of the room, looking serious and tense. Their jobs had been to delay the guards long enough for her to do her job, their reappearance told her that the guards were close. Sure enough, she heard the clanking of mail and plate and a loud shout for the matron. The woman cast her a weary and frightened look, something that had Artemis smiling reassuringly. She left the room and Artemis was left to reassure the children.

She regretted letting the matron go alone when a cry permeated the air. The city watch entered the room, the matron's hair grasped tight in their leader's fist as he yanked her along.

'Please, milord, we ain't got the pox no more. It's been cured!' The matron begged and received a back hand across the face for it.

'You will release her immediately,' Artemis snarled, drawing her sword from its scabbard.

'Quite wench,' the man spat arrogantly, lifting his hand to strike her. She sneered and with a quick sweep of her sword the man's hand was rolling uselessly on the floor. He let go of the matron with a pained scream only to draw his sword, his fellow watchmen doing the same. But he was inhibited by his pain.

Draco drew his longsword and Blaise twirled his arakh round in his hand, both flanking her and she smiled. 'Gentlemen,' she said, her lips curling into a smirk, 'why don't we take this outside. There are children present.'

'Children we've been ordered to kill. They're riddled with pox,' one of the gold cloaks called.

Artemis looked around her in confusion. 'I see no pox ridden children. Would you really slaughter innocent children?'

'We've got our orders,' the same guard spat.

'Sheep,' she muttered dryly and Draco and Blaise sniggered. 'I said,' her tone was much harder now; an order, 'let's step outside.' She thrust her hand outwards and the guards went crashing through the wall into the shit stained street. Smirking, all three of them stepped through the wall and took up defensive positions. 'It appears,' she whispered to Draco and Blaise, 'that they do not know who I am. Or at least are blinded by the fact they do not expect their prince's betrothed to be in an orphanage.'

There had been eight guards in total, the leader was hindered by his lack of a hand and two had been knocked out by the impact. The smallfolk that had been in the street had run away. The other five surrounded their leader and took up the offence. They lunged forwards, but the three warriors had been trained by monks, elves, paladins and every assortment of fighting class there was. It was an unfair fight and it did not sit well with her.

'Don't kill them,' she told her companions.

The sounds of metal striking metal echoed through the streets along with grunts of exertion and the squelching of boots in the mud. Artemis ducked under one sword and slammed the hilt of her sword into the gut of another guard, using her magic to heighten the impact and the guard fell to his knees breathless. They continued on this way, ducking or parrying the vicious blows of the gold cloaks, who were actually trying to harm them, and getting their own blows. There were two left standing along with the leader when an angry voice roared above the song of their swords.

'What, in the name of the seven, is going on here?'

Artemis winced and span round, a sheepish smile on her face as she looked at her angry betrothed. He sounded beyond angry actually.

'Your grace,' the one-handed leader bowed and simpered. 'We were trying to carry out the king's orders, when this savage whore and her dogs brutally attacked us.'

'Brutally?' Artemis questioned, 'was I brutal?'

'You took the guy's hand off,' Draco deadpanned.

'That's not brutal,' she mumbled, 'it was self-defence, he was going to hit me.'

'I've hit you and my hand still remains.'

'That's different,' she shrugged. 'You hit like a ninety year old granny.'

Rhaegar ignored the two, leaving them to their bickering for now, in favour of addressing the guard that wanted kill his future queen. 'That savage whore, as you put it, happens to be my betrothed, Lady Artemis Peverell,' he snarled. 'Your future queen and you have just tried to have her killed.'

The idea of anyone harming his bride to be sent a white hot fury through him.

'Your grace,' the man trembled now and fell to his knees. 'Please, I did not know. I would never have… Please… I only wished to fulfil the king's orders.'

'Harming my betrothed is a great offence,' Rhaegar told the man.

'Rhaegar,' Artemis called, she was hesitant to bring his attention to her, but she needed to throw the gold cloak a bone or two. 'It's as much my fault as his. I was never in any true danger. I cut guy's hand off for Merlin's sake, surely that is a recompense enough.'

Rhaegar agreed and dismissed the gold cloaks with an angry command. Before the leader left Artemis used her magic to reattach the missing hand. She honestly didn't mean to cut it off, she only meant to stop him hitting her, but she was overzealous and underestimated the sharpness of her sword. Blaise often took it to re-sharpen the edge, but often didn't tell her when he did. She didn't want to take the man's livelihood away from him. He thanked her as though it wasn't her that lobbed it off in the first place. When he was gone the street was silent.

'So,' she began awkwardly with a sheepish smile, 'fancy meeting you here, Rhaegar.'

Rhaegar didn't look impressed, he folded his arms over his chest and rose an eyebrow, a disapproving gleam in his eyes. 'What are you doing here?' his tone was chilling and filled with a closely guarded rage.

'Healing,' she answered, her own tone growing to match his. She had a feeling she was about to get pissed off.

'You had no business here,' Rhaegar said. 'You had no business in messing with the king's orders.'

'You think I'm just going to stand there and let innocent children die? I cured them, Rhaegar, there is no longer an issue.'

'No one is above the king,' he gestured angrily with his hands. 'Especially not you. What do you think is going to happen when he learns his orders haven't been followed?'

'I will deal with it,' she responded tensely.

'You defied the king, Artemis. His word is absolute.'

'So what? I should have let the children die?' she looked at him in disbelief.

He didn't reply, looking away from her, and that told her all she needed to know.

'Is this how it will be when you are king?' she asked quietly. 'Is that the type of queen you want me to be? Am I to be your broodmare, good for child bearing but nothing else?'

'A good queen obeys her king,' Rhaegar answered, his chin raising and he gave her a look of contempt. 'A good queen doesn't sneak off into the town and into danger.'

She was right about getting pissed off. She was fuming. He knew it too and stepped close to her with a calm smile and wrapped his arms around her. 'But a great queen saves the people she rules over, regardless of the king's orders.'

'I doubt you'd give an order like your father did,' she muttered petulantly, but it was hard to argue with a man who just told her she had the potential to be a great queen.

OoO

She met the daughter before she met the father.

Cersei Lannister was as every bit beautiful as she was spiteful her downfall was that she thought herself intelligent but was as obvious as Maclaggen's lust for Hermione was. However, once you put aside the plethora of negative comments, Cersei was quite nice. At her father's behest, Cersei approached her with a friendly smile and offered to show Artemis the societal expectations of a future queen. Artemis could not turn her down, so was forced to attend the lessons she had with her Septa and partake in gossip of a courtly nature. She learned, from Cersei's not so subtle questioning, that the girl was infatuated with Rhaegar, even going so far as to imply that once Rhaegar was bored of her, he would turn to Cersei for attention. The thoughts of Rhaegar and Cersei together was so absurd she all but told Cersei to go for it. It would be interesting to see her fiancé's reaction.

Still, Cersei knew things.

She had an uncanny knack for getting her nose where it didn't belong. She knew which lord was plotting what, which lady was sleeping with who and the weakness of the lords who were flooding King's Landing for the wedding. From Cersei's knowledge, she had managed to find out which lords would be her allies against the king and which were simpering fools.

'That's Lord Rickard Stark,' Cersei told her, they hidden from sight and watching the comings and goings of the gate. 'His heir, Brandon Stark and daughter Lyanna. Mayhaps he brought her to see how a true lady should act,' Cersei tilted her nose up and sniffed pompously. 'Northerners are savages after all, the girl is betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Both Robert and Rickard's second son Eddard are squires under Lord Arryn at the Vale. Brandon is betrothed to Catelyn Tully.'

The father had a spattering of salt and pepper hair, he looked to be strong-willed and hardened by the Northern climate. His son was handsome, a cocky smirk on his face told her that he knew it too. The information Cersei provided was interesting, this man, with the marriage of his son and daughter, would have allies in the Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands. It was an opportunity she could not, and would not, pass up.

'Let's go greet them,' she smiled and, adopting the air of a true lady of Lys, she sauntered forwards. Seduction in her steps and an open kindness on her face. Brandon Stark was the first to notice her, his gaze sweeping her form almost predatorily and she understood why the Stark sigil was a direwolf. He smirked at her, she merely rose an eyebrow in challenge.

'My Lord,' one of the page boys bowed as the stable hands took away their horses. 'If you would follow me, I will show you to your chambers.'

'I will show Lord Stark and his family to their rooms,' Artemis called cheerfully and Cersei huffed beside her.

'Why should we do _servant_ work?'

Oh, how she brought back memories of an eleven year old Draco.

'If you do not like it, Cersei, then leave,' she waved a hand dismissively. If there was one thing she had learned, Cersei did not like to be dismissed.'

* * *

A/N: I realise now, there kinda is a plot, but I've no idea where I'm going with it. Artemis and Rhaegar could end up in Valhalla for all I know. I'm sorry for ranting earlier, it just gets annoying to be told the same thing over and over. Anyways, not sure when the next post will be. Like I said, it could be a short one or a long one. All I know is that anything goes in this story. There will be plot holes. There will be moments when you question my sanity. This is story of interconnected moments that are not meant to paint a full and vivid picture. It's more of a colour by numbers thing. Dot-to-dot. You get my gist. Anyway, it 5:30am, I've yet to sleep and my thought process isn't fully operational.

Also, the dragon magic Allion uses was from Merlin. I was too lazy to make up my own language for it.

So long and thanks for all the fish, amigos.

Review. Or don't. I'm too tired to care at this moment in time.


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